


I'll Forgive You In The End

by curds_and_wheyface



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Boxer AU, M/M, Thorki Big Bang, art by eepz, boxing au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-18 19:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curds_and_wheyface/pseuds/curds_and_wheyface
Summary: Since his mother’s death Thor has thrown every ounce of himself into boxing, working his way up through the amateur ranks into the world of professional sport. The strict diet, punishing workout schedule and pre-fight sex ban enforced by his coach Heimdall leave him with no social life other than his sparring partner and only friend Fandral.But in Helsinki, where he’s set to face his biggest opponent to-date, Thor meets a beautiful stranger who has him violating all the rules and jeopardising his chances for the belt.Written for Thorki Big Bang 2018, featuring embedded art by Eepz





	1. I Have Given All Myself

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so lucky to have been able to work with the wonderful [Eepz](http://eepz.tumblr.com/) whose art is beautiful and not only captured everything I imagined in my head but also spurred me to finish this fic any time I felt like giving up. Thank you so much <3
> 
> This fic is 25k+ and will be posted in 3 chapters over the course of the week.
> 
> While writing the club scene I was listening to this ['cosmic' progressive house mix](https://youtu.be/ZJzsnVXe_w0?t=303), particularly Departure by James Woods (which begins at the linked 5.03 mark) as they dance.

The atmosphere was electric, the air filled with a haze of smoke and, all around, people seemingly lost in the music, drinks clutched protectively in their hands as they swayed to the synthetic melody and steady beat.

Locating the bar was easy enough, brightly lit optics in a long row on the wall guiding the way, but getting to it through the pleasantly drunk rave-zombies was something of a challenge.

Once there, Thor flagged down the nearest bartender.

“Water, please,” he had to shout above the music, both elbows on the bar so he could lean close enough to be heard. He second-guessed himself then, searching his mind for the correct phrase from the travel guide he’d briefly flicked through on the plane. “Uh, vet...vettä?”

The bartender’s face broke into a pleasant smile, clearly amused. “I speak English.”

“Oh, okay,” Thor nodded, feeling stupid. “Good.”

It was late, an unsociable hour to be arriving even for a nightclub, but he wasn’t supposed to be out. Half an hour ago he’d been lying in his hotel room staring at the ceiling, nervous energy rocketing through his veins. He’d needed to get out, to be in the company of people who didn’t know him, and so he’d tied his hair up into a ponytail, thrown on a nice shirt and made his escape.

“Take me to a nightclub or something,” he’d said to the taxi driver as he slipped into the back seat. It had taken less than ten minutes for him to be deposited outside of a packed club with throbbing music - and happily inebriated people - spilling out every time the door opened.

It was exactly what he’d been looking for.

The bartender passed him a glass, waving off his attempt to pay, and then left to deal with a girl gesturing wildly for his attention at the other end of the bar.

Sipping slowly at his water, Thor turned to lean back against the bar, careful not to jostle anyone. He’d long gotten used to his own bulk, but it was rare these days for him to be in such a crowded venue.

The European Boxing Union Heavyweight Championships had brought him and his team to Finland, set to face the current champion on his home turf. The Seven Foot Finn, the media called him, an exaggeration but not by much. They’d never met, but Thor had spent months analysing his fighting style, his strengths and weaknesses. Every one of the champion’s typical moves had been drilled into Thor’s mind, his training had been changed and intensified to make him better able to win the belt, and despite being in peak physical condition he was approaching mental exhaustion.

For the last three years he’d given up any and all worldly pleasures in his bid for the championship belt; beer and good food and sex a thing of the past, and it had all brought him to this.

Looking out across the crowded dance floor, he drank his water and basked in the pleasure of not having his trainer breathing down his neck.

On a raised platform near to the very far wall was a DJ, energetically spinning records and twisting dials with one headphone wedged between his ear and shoulder. In the space between him and Thor, seemingly hundreds of tightly-packed bodies writhed in relative synchronisation.

Thor watched, transfixed by the moving crowd, as one song melted into another and their collective rhythm changed to compensate. At some point the bartender put another glass of water by his elbow and he took it with a grateful nod.

Somebody pressed in beside him, leaning over the bar to order their drink, bare arm brushing Thor’s elbow. Glancing over, Thor locked eyes with the newcomer.

He was striking to look at; pale and classically attractive, with slicked-back black hair and neat brows that quirked curiously as his eyes flashed briefly down Thor’s body and back to his face. Thor offered a nod, receiving a small smile in return before the man’s attention reverted to the bartender.

Thor, though, couldn’t look away.

Lean and almost as tall as Thor, he wore tight black jeans and a loose fitting, dark green vest that emphasised his pallor. In comparison, the homogenous crowd seemed to lose its appeal and instead Thor found himself watching the man smile as he received his drink and happily chatted to the barman as he paid.

Only when green eyes sharply turned in his direction did Thor avert his gaze.

“Etkö aio tanssia?” the man leaned close to say, his voice airy and playful as though he wasn’t remotely upset to find himself the object of Thor’s attention.

“Sorry,” Thor said, shrugging helplessly. “I don’t understand Finnish.”

Just like the bartender before him, the man laughed. With a nod he leaned closer still, and when he next spoke it was in pleasantly accented English.

“Aren’t you going to dance?”

Thor was unable to stop a bashful smile from forming, looking out across the dancefloor again. Confident as he was that he had enough coordination to slip unnoticed into the crowd, he shook his head. “I’m okay here.”

Nodding, the man held out a hand. A wide ring with a flat green stone sat snug around his middle finger, the metal cold against Thor’s skin as he accepted the shake.

Despite the long fingers, the other man’s hand was nearly dwarfed by Thor’s, yet his handshake was firm and sure. “I’m Loki.”

“Thor.”

Loki’s eyes, seemingly lime-coloured in the glare of the bright light behind the optics, held on Thor’s as the handshake lingered. His mouth, small and pink like the bud of a rose, widened into a flirtatious smile. “Very nice to meet you, Thor.”

He rolled the ‘r’ at the end of Thor's name a little. Thor liked it. For a moment, he got a little stuck on it.

Then Loki’s brows quirked with amusement, and Thor remembered himself. Lowering his gaze he released Loki’s hand, taking a sip of his drink for a distraction.

Immediately he missed the feeling of Loki’s palm against his.

It had been some time since he'd been touched by someone who wasn't either punching him or roughly massaging his tired and aching muscles.

“Vodka?” Loki pointed to Thor’s glass, brushing away any awkwardness.

Thor sloshed what remained of the clear liquid around the bottom of his glass. “Water.”

With a raised brow, Loki licked his bottom lip. “...not dancing, not drinking. You have me intrigued, Thor.”

Gently, Thor dismissed the comment with a loose shake of his head.

In his teens he’d considered himself the most interesting person in any room he walked into, unafraid to make himself the centre of attention or voice his opinion to anyone who’d listen, wearing his arrogance with pride. He’d been eighteen when his mother had been diagnosed, and it had been her subsequent death that had dropped him firmly back down to earth. Not long after that it had become apparent that his father was unable to soothe his own grief, let alone his son’s, and so Thor had instead sought solace in the aggression and discipline of boxing.

He sighed. “I just needed a moment to breathe.”

Loki scoffed, gesturing around. “Here?”

And he was right, Thor imagined that this would ordinarily be the last place someone might come for a break, a moment of peace, but his life wasn't exactly ordinary.

Allowing himself to smile, he offered, with a shrug, “Normal for me is...differently oppressive.”

Loki seemed amused by that but accepted it without further question, inviting himself to lean back against the bar at Thor’s side. For a while they remained silent, both watching the crowd with companionable disinterest, Thor hyper aware of Loki’s arm brushing his each time he raised his glass.

“So you’re Finnish?” he blurted, for something to say.

Loki’s nose wrinkled as he smirked, eyes bright and playful. “What gave me away?”

With a rueful smile, Thor looked away again. He was certain now that Loki was flirting, and also completely certain that he’d forgotten how to participate.

Thankfully, Loki had an abundance of confidence, and leaned closer into Thor’s space in order to be better heard above the noise. “So, business or pleasure?”

“Business,” Thor responded at first, before deciding that wasn't strictly true and correcting himself. “Well, work.”

He didn't want to mention what exactly his work entailed, and he wasn't sure if it was because he worried Loki would be put-off by the violence of it, or if he was worried that Loki wouldn't be as openly impressed as most people tended to be.

If anything, Loki seemed amused by his unwillingness to give much away.

“And no room for pleasure at all?” he asked, draining his glass and turning to place it down on the bar and gesture again for the bartender. It left him facing Thor, standing close. A laser light flared through the air above them, cutting a sharp blue line across his face. Thor couldn't look away from him.

The music had shifted again as they talked, a swelling, almost-cosmic hum undercutting the steady beat, rising and rising, as if it too was anticipating Thor’s answer.

Smiling softly, Loki leaned in close again. Thor tilted his head to hear.

“You could take me home if you wanted,” Loki said into his ear, no seduction or game in his voice, just an open and straightforward offer.

The temptation was amplified by Loki’s proximity, his honesty, and on instinct Thor almost found himself saying yes. Would one night of fun really hurt? But then Heimdall’s disapproving frown flashed through his mind, hours of hard work and dedication flooding up to the surface, and somewhere in there Thor found his resolve again.

Being out now when he should be sleeping was already breaking the rules in a big way, but sex before a fight would definitely land him in dangerous territory. Heimdall would kill him, for a start.

He sighed, genuinely regretful as he tilted his chin to answer in Loki’s ear. “I can’t.”

He only hoped Loki could tell how much the answer pained him.

Loki’s shoulders dropped a little in disappointment, head tilting to the side. He sipped carefully at his fresh drink, tongue swiping along his bottom lip afterwards, and said, “Girlfriend?”

Thor nearly laughed. At this point, sex and dating seemed like a distant memory.

“No...” he sighed, swiping his thumb through the ring of condensation his glass had left behind. “I’m a boxer.”

It seemed only fair to confess.

With a tight little frown creasing the skin between his brows, Loki moved in closer again. “You’re a what?”

When Loki presented his ear for the answer, Thor leaned right in, nose pressing into Loki’s hair. “A boxer. Professionally. I have a fight next weekend and my trainer has a rule about...in the lead up to a fight.”

He was sure Loki could’ve only caught half of it above the swelling and dipping music, but he gave a nod of understanding as if he’d received the basic message. For a moment they just stared at each other, the charge between them palpable still.

Finally Loki smiled.

“Dance with me then,” he said above the music, fingers in a careful grip around Thor’s forearm. He was smiling, eyebrows raised in hope. When he didn’t get an immediate response he leaned back in to murmur, “Come on, spare me complete rejection.”

Before he even really knew what was happening, Thor found himself being led to the dancefloor.

The crowd seemed to part unknowingly for Loki, men and women tangled in each other, rocking and swaying and shuffling together, moving their bodies in rhythm with the music as best they could. Loki didn’t stop until they were somewhere near the centre, where immediately the heat of the surrounding bodies was almost oppressive, and Thor found himself forced to move collectively with them as if he was caught in a wave.

Loki pressed close, smiling playfully up at Thor through his long lashes before turning to fit his back against Thor’s front, mimicking many of the other couples around them.

A steady beat thumped through the song but it seemed to be the hypnotic, swelling synth that had the crowd enraptured, caught in a loose tide-like sway. Effortlessly, Loki found their rhythm and joined in, shifting his hips slowly side to side, pressing back into Thor until he had no choice but to follow, until he felt caught in it too.

Loki danced without insecurity, raising both hands into the air and tilting his head back against Thor’s shoulder as he continued to shift his hips to the music. In the flashes of light overhead Thor could see that Loki’s eyes were closed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, a look of euphoria on his face.

Without opening his eyes Loki let one arm drop loosely around the back of Thor’s neck. It encouraged Thor to lean into him, impose himself into Loki’s space the way Loki was imposing on his, and so he did; with both hands he took Loki by the waist, his grip tight, allowing him to enjoy the sensual roll of Loki’s hips, the warmth of his soft skin beneath the thin material of his vest.

 

He told himself it was just a dance, just a good time with an attractive guy. He deserved this.

Guided by the music they moved as one, barely any space between their bodies. Thor was hard within less than a minute, and there was no doubt in his mind that Loki could feel it. He’d have been embarrassed if not for the way Loki carefully, and very deliberately, began to rock his arse back in a slow, lazy roll.

He’d thought that Loki had accepted his answer back at the bar, that his invitation to dance had been without strings attached, but there was no doubt now that this was intended as more. Without question, this was a seduction.

He let out a breath, slipping his hands down from Loki’s waist to clasp at his hips, feeling the bones beneath his fingers as he tightened his grip. His intention, he told himself, was to stop any further attempts to change his mind, but when Loki pushed back into him further, rubbing against the obvious bulge of Thor’s very interested cock, Thor didn't stop him. Instead, uncaring of the consequences, he pulled Loki’s body in closer and used his grip for leverage to hold Loki there, to grind against him in response.

Loki’s fingers wound into the hair at Thor’s nape, tugged, and with his other hand he found Thor’s on his hip, interlocking their fingers as they moved together.

The rhythm of the music ebbed and flowed, swelling and dipping with unpredictability, lifting the enthralled crowd to ethereal heights before dropping them back down into the powerful rhythm, and they moved together through it all, body to body. With every climb and fall, with every bump and grind of Loki against him, Thor felt himself being drawn further and further away from his resolve.

They might as well have been fucking for real, more intimately entwined than Thor had been with most of the people he’d slept with. Pressing his lips to the long column of Loki’s neck seemed like the logical progression, and Loki tipped his head to welcome it.

It was an intoxicating cocktail; the beat and sway of the music, the perfect fit of Loki’s shape against him and the heady haze of sex that seemed to cloud each and every person on the dancefloor. Thor was lost in it, lost in the scent and taste of Loki’s bared neck, the feel of narrow hips beneath his hands, the torturous feel of Loki’s tight arse rubbing against his cock like a promise.

And that was it. All determination to let Loki leave the club without him was lost.

It seemed to go on and on, the sweet torture of it, until finally the pulse of the music changed, quickening, and Loki’s movements synchronised with it, the rock of his hips too fast now, too much. With a shuddering breath Thor manhandled him around until they were face to face, suddenly still, the only bodies on the dance floor not moving.

Loki’s expression was infuriatingly smug, all trace of innocence gone now that he’d played his little game and won. Thor wanted to wipe the smirk right off his face, wanted to take Loki apart piece by piece, to see him reduced to a quivering, desperate mess.

Winding one arm around Loki’s waist he pulled him in close again, revelling in the surprised sound that escaped his chest, and tilted his head down until his mouth was barely an inch from Loki’s ear.

“If you leave here with me…” he made sure his tone was one of clear warning. “I can't promise that I'll be able to control myself.”

He was deadly serious, rock hard already and only marginally confident he'd be able to make it back to the hotel before his need took over.

Breathily, Loki laughed.

“If you make a promise like that,” he said clearly, despite the noise around them, “...you'd better be prepared to deliver.”

And in answer, Thor interlocked their fingers and used his bulk to shove his way through the crowd.

At the cloakroom Loki pressed close against his back, tossing his own ticket at the attendant once Thor had retrieved his coat and hat.

Better prepared for the weather, Loki collected black leather gloves and a dark green scarf along with his long black jacket. The beat still thrummed through them both from the industrial speakers on the dancefloor, and Loki’s lazy, sultry gaze didn’t leave Thor even as he readied himself for the cold.

A well-dressed bouncer nodded to them before yanking open the door and instantly Thor was hit, bone-deep, by the frigid air.

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth, the word leaving his mouth in a plume of white. Shoving his hands as deep as he could into his pockets, shoulders lifting protectively towards his ears, he huffed.

Loki chuckled, closing the short distance between them, wrapping one hand around the back of Thor’s neck to pull him in. “Don’t worry, big man, I’ll warm you up.”

He tasted sharp like vodka, no sweetness to soften it, and yet Thor only wanted more. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this, being kissed, and he gave into it greedily, wrapping an arm around Loki’s waist to pull him tighter with no concern for the people around them.

“Don’t change your mind,” Loki murmured against his mouth, a waver of desperation in his voice.

Thor shook his head. “I won’t.”

-

“ _Hotelliin Lilla Roberts, kiitos_ ,” Loki said to the driver, reeling off the name of Thor’s hotel with confidence. Thor’s surprise, clearly evident on his face, inspired a short laugh. “What?”

“How do you know where I’m staying?”

With a little scoff, Loki settled back into his seat. “I might not be a fan of the sport but everyone in Helsinki is well aware of our visiting boxing champions.”

“Champion,” Thor corrected. “The other guy. I’ve come for his belt.”

“Good luck with that,” Loki said with a sincere lack of interest. Then, as an afterthought, “I hope you won’t let him ruin your face.”

He ran a gloved finger along the line of Thor’s jaw then, and that was the last they spoke for the rest of the journey.

-

The night staff at the front desk nodded courteously to both of them as they passed, though Loki didn’t pay them any mind. The late hour meant the lift doors opened immediately for them and Loki positioned himself at the far corner of the mirrored box, simply staring at Thor, gaze heated, as they climbed the floors.

When the doors opened on Thor’s level Loki moved to exit, eyebrows quirking when Thor stepped into his path.

“My trainer…” Thor said, quiet. “He’s in the room across from mine.”

Heimdall, a long-time friend of Odin’s, had known Thor since he was young, had been present for - and often an active participant in - the various tellings-off and punishments Thor had earned in his teens. As such Thor remained afraid of earning his wrath, despite having grown to tower several inches over him.

Leaning slowly out of the open doors, Loki glanced up and down the hallway as if to check that they were alone before grabbing Thor by the lapel of his coat and pulling him into a kiss.

Grinning against his lips, he murmured, “I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

-

It was, by far, the nicest hotel room Thor had ever stayed in, with large floor-to-ceiling windows draped with black and gold curtains, and a seating area made up of two black chairs and a gaudy zebra patterned sofa that Thor half expected Loki to scoff at.

‘Art Deco’ Heimdall had called it.

Loki ignored all of it, his only acknowledgment of the sofa being to drop his gloves onto it, turning to Thor as he very casually pulled a small handful of foil squares from his coat pocket before slipping it off and dropping that onto the sofa too.

Thor stared at the packets in Loki’s hand, the reality of what was about to happen leaving his mouth dry. It had been some time since he'd had need of a condom.

Loki gestured around the corner to where the sleeping area was tucked away.

“Bed this way?” he asked, rendering the question rhetorical by immediately disappearing in that direction.

Belatedly Thor remembered he hadn’t made the bed before sneaking out.

Abandoning his own coat on the floor, he followed.

He had expected Loki to already be on the bed, or to at least find him undressing, but instead he found him flipping curiously through the scrapbook Heimdall had left on the mirrored desk by the window.

The foil packets - a mixture of condoms and lube, Thor could now tell - we're on the small table next to the bed, apparently forgotten as Loki perused the book.

It was filled with photographs of The Seven Foot Finn mid-fight, throwing or receiving punches, face twisted into a scowl of violent concentration in each one. Thor had been made to look at it so many times he was sure he could describe each image in detail.

“Why boxing?” Loki asked, pulling a face as he opened the book right at the middle, at the centrefold image that had been captured expertly by a photographer; the moment Thor’s opponent had punched a wad of bloody spit out of another fighter’s mouth. Without looking away from the picture, Loki continued, “Do you like the violence?”

Thor couldn’t see Loki’s face to read his expression, but it struck him then that perhaps seeing the reality of Thor’s profession laid out like that might be enough to render someone just a little bit afraid of him.

“I’m just good at it,” Thor said, stepping close to slide the book away in the hopes of soothing any such fears. When Loki’s eyes tracked the image, Thor snapped the book closed. “I don’t get off on hurting people.”

Looking up finally, Loki licked his bottom lip. There wasn’t a trace of fear on his face. Instead his eyes were bright like the prospect of Thor hurting people excited him, his voice sweet like honey as he murmured, “Are you aggressive when you fuck, Thor?”

Taken a little aback, Thor said nothing.

Mouth curving into a smile, Loki turned completely from the book, all interest in it lost. One flattened palm slipped its way up Thor’s abdomen to rest at the centre of his chest. “I bet you are.”

“Is that what you want?” Thor asked, hands coming up of their own accord to take Loki by the upper arms. “You want me to hurt you?”

One shoulder lifted; a small, noncommittal movement. “Maybe a little.”

It wasn’t anything Thor had ever explored but he couldn’t lie to himself; the idea thrilled him, and not only because Loki wanted it. He'd spent the last few years in a cocoon of power and aggression, controlled violence, and the thought of taking a little pleasure in it for a change appealed.

It wasn't hard to turn them, to have Loki’s knees back against the bed, and then all it took was one quick shove to have him sprawled back against the mattress, mouth parted around a surprised little ‘oof’. He bounced a little, eyes wide, and Thor had to suppress a proud smirk.

Having people on the back foot was, after all, Thor’s profession.

“What's a little?” Thor asked as he climbed up onto the bed, one knee shoved to rest between Loki’s legs, leaning down over him, hands settling back on Loki’s arms to hold him down. “Maybe I didn't adequately warn you earlier about my self-control right now…”

Loki let out a breathless laugh, tongue flashing out again to wet his pink bottom lip, eyes locked on Thor’s. “Oh, I heard your warning.”

Tightening his grip on Loki’s arms, Thor tried to get his breathing under control again. They’d barely touched and Loki already had him shaken, had his veins thrumming with nervous energy like a lovesick virgin.

This was a bad idea.

“You want to fuck me, Thor?” Loki murmured then, all open and earnest like earlier, before they'd danced.

He was captivating, pale skin and parted lips, eyes fixed on Thor’s. Beneath the bravado there were flashes of a vulnerability too, moments of it, that perhaps drew Thor in even more than the teasing.

He couldn't remember ever wanting anybody this much.

“Yes.”

Humming, pleased, Loki leaned up as best he could, neck straining, lips a mere inch from Thor’s, to whisper, “Good.”

And with that Thor let his weight drop almost fully onto Loki, their kiss a clash of impatient lips and grazing teeth. Dutifully Loki parted his knees as best he could, hindered somewhat by the taut pull of his tight jeans, and moaned into the kiss as Thor forced his way between.

Fingers scrambled along his shoulders for purchase.

Loki’s long neck felt delicate in his hand as he tucked an arm beneath his shoulders and wound his fingers around the nape to hold him in place, puffing desperate breaths through his nose in his unwillingness to break their kiss.

It went on and on, more heated by the minute as they learnt each other’s mouths. Loki was eager, licking out at Thor’s lips and tongue between kisses, tugging at Thor’s bottom lip with his teeth whenever he broke away for air, and Thor revelled in being so thoroughly kissed.

They fell into a slow grind, a mirror of their dancing in the club, hips shifting together unrushed, enjoying the closeness, the friction.

Loki’s mouth and chin were flushed a soft pink when Thor drew back to look at him, and when Thor realised the cause he lifted a hand to finger gingerly at his own beard.

“Sorry,” he murmured self-consciously. He hadn't kissed anyone since growing it out, hadn't thought he was going to.

Reaching up, Loki tugged Thor’s hand away and replaced it with his own.

“I like it,” he smiled, stroking the bristles like one might a pet. “I've never kissed someone with a beard before.”

Thor nodded, softly swiping his thumb across the subtle curve of Loki’s lower lip. “Okay.”

This time when Loki pulled him down there was no hesitation from either of them, both taking their fill of the other.

Rough hands grabbed at his arse to pull him in, encouraging him into a harder, more insistent grind, and Thor complied, feeling almost like a teenager dry humping in his bedroom with a disapproving adult in a nearby room. He kept up the rolling grind of his hips even as Loki's hands travelled up, fingertips sneaking beneath the hem of his t-shirt in search of skin. Cool palms flattened at the small of his back, sliding upwards, and Thor groaned at the touch.

He felt Loki smile against his lips just seconds before the smooth stroke of his palms was replaced by the careful, ticklish scratch of nails. It drew a surprised hiss from Thor, his back instinctively arching away from the feeling.

It forced his chest down against Loki's.

A low laugh bubbled up in Loki's throat but he ceased his tickling, once again smoothing his palms up the toned stretch of Thor's back.

The material of Thor’s t-shirt gathered at Loki's wrists as he explored, up and up until it was bunched beneath Thor's armpits and his torso was bared for Loki's touch.

Dutifully Thor held himself in place as, with a pleased hum, Loki snaked one hand around his sensitive ribs and across the curve of his well-formed pectoral.

Fandral had once joked that if Thor worked his chest any more he'd have to start wearing a bra, a comment Thor hadn't taken too well. He'd started skipping that muscle group during workouts, making excuses to avoid bench presses and push-ups. The strength of his jab had suffered as a result, leading to his first loss. He'd taken up chest workouts again the minute he was cleared to continue with his training.

Loki seemed to like his chest, judging by the way he palmed at Thor's pec with a soft moan, thumb passing purposefully across a nipple. He stayed there only long enough to enjoy Thor's answering groan before sliding his fingers downwards.

It was both vanity and a desire to impress that had Thor tightening his core, ensuring that Loki's questing fingers caught on each and every ridge of his abdomen.

The other hand, still tucked in the gathered material at the back, explored the wide expanse of Thor’s shoulders.

Breaking away just for a moment, Loki let out a breathy groan. “ _"Kehosi..."_ ”

Thor had no idea what the word meant, but he liked the softness to Loki's voice, the air of complete reverence with which it was spoken, and took Loki's mouth in a slower, gentler kiss.

Loki hummed into it, pleased, before pulling back once more.

“Off,” he said sharply, smacking Thor’s side and shoving as best he could until Thor, a little dazed, managed to comply.

Groaning unhappily at having lost the feeling of Loki’s knees around him and the pleasant friction between his legs, Thor pulled himself up to full height, one foot finding the floor again. He pulled his messy shirt up and off, tossing it aside, revelling in the heat of Loki’s slow perusal of his body, eyes following where hands had already explored.

And Thor let himself look too, cock hardening impossibly more at the sight of Loki lying prone on his bed, knees still parted, the subtle swell of his bitten-pink lips.

“Let me see you,” Thor said, reaching down to palm at himself, and without hesitation Loki grabbed the hem of his olive green vest and slipped it over his head.

He was creamy pale all over save for lovely pink nipples that Thor couldn't help but lean down to brush a knuckle over. Loki let out a sharp breath, arching up into the touch like a spoiled cat.

“Get rid of these,” he instructed, tugging at Thor’s trousers, his voice soft but demanding. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Fuck,” Thor groaned, immediately scrambling for the heavy buckle of his belt. Maybe he seemed too eager, maybe he should've been more casual about it, but Loki didn't seem to mind; he was eyeing Thor’s hands like a spectator waiting for the big reveal.

His eyes seemed to light up as Thor shoved his jeans down to mid-thigh, the obvious shape of his cock straining against the white cotton of his underwear.

Hurried, Thor kicked off his jeans with little grace, but before he could tuck his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear to rid himself of those too, Loki held out a hand.

“Lie down,” he murmured, reaching out to pat the pillows that still bore a dent from Thor’s earlier attempt to sleep. His eyes were dark and focused on Thor’s cock.

Shuddering at just the thought of being at the mercy of Loki’s pretty mouth, Thor did as he was told, settling himself at the head of the bed.

Grinning, Loki crawled up Thor’s body like a predator, eyes hooded and trained intently on the tented material at Thor’s crotch. It was like he was hungry for it, eager to taste, and the thought made Thor’s stomach flip with excitement.

Loki’s mouth, hot and so _so_ pretty, an inch from the white cotton hiding Thor’s straining erection, spread into a wide and devilish smile.

“Hmm, what do you have for me?” he murmured, one hand sliding up Thor’s thigh to rub slowly, palm flat, along the shape of Thor’s erection.

“Jesus,” Thor breathed out, abs tight and shuddering from the tension he was holding in his body, his arousal off-the-charts. He hadn’t even allowed himself a wank for weeks in the run-up to the fight, so after forcing himself to go so long without he felt every second of Loki’s touch with uncharted intensity.

Then, hot and wet, that devilish tongue flickered out to tease at the cotton-covered head of Thor’s straining cock and it felt _so-_

Fuck. No.

Pleasure tore through Thor like a rough wave, dragging him under despite his best efforts. Powerless to stop it he felt his whole body tighten up, fists clenching and teeth grinding together, hips thrusting up at Loki’s mouth of their own volition as, with a shocked, embarrassed moan, he came in his underwear.

The cotton, now translucent and soaked through, showcased Thor’s shame, his cock twitching forcefully again to offer another spurt.

He sucked in a sharp breath, hit simultaneously by post-orgasmic bliss and utter shame, both warring for his attention. When he met Loki’s eyes - wide with surprise - the shame won out.

Groaning unhappily he rolled over onto his stomach to shove his face into the pillow. “Oh fuck, I want to die,” he groaned.

Loki snorted.

Unhappily, Thor whined into the soft cushion. All that build-up, all that anticipation, only to come within seconds of Loki touching him. He couldn’t believe himself.

“That's never happened before, I swear,” he said without lifting his head, hoping Loki could understand his muffled voice.

Ideally Loki would just get up and go so that Thor would never have to face the reality of what had just happened.

Thor waited, but Loki didn't go anywhere.

“It's okay,” he said, hand coming up to rub across Thor’s tense shoulders. “It's been a while, no?”

“Yeah,” Thor sighed, turning his face slightly to gauge Loki’s expression. “I'm sorry.”

Loki was smiling softly, clearly still amused but not really mocking. He shrugged a shoulder. “Honestly I’m a little flattered.”

Huffing, Thor shifted onto his side until they were face to face, cringing as the unpleasantly wet cotton rubbed against his softening cock.

“I have to…” he waved a hand loosely in the direction of his crotch.

Before he could even attempt to get up to take care of it, Loki was shoving him over onto his back and tucking his fingers into Thor’s waistband. Too surprised to protest, Thor lifted his hips, watching as Loki freed him of his underwear and tossed them haphazardly across the room.

His cock, softening to lie nestled in against the crook of his hip, was slick and shiny.

“How long until you’re hard again?” Loki questioned, running his thumb around the sensitive tip before bringing it to his mouth to taste.

“Fuck,” Thor gasped, cock twitching pitifully. “I don’t know.”

Loki hummed around his thumb, letting it slip from between his lips with a pop. He didn't seem in any rush to go anywhere, casually trailing his fingers along the ridges of Thor’s abs while they stared at each other.

“C’mere,” Thor breathed, reaching out. “Come up here.”

Loki’s head tilted, a little surprised perhaps, but he didn't hesitate to take Thor up on the offer, wriggling out of his tight trousers before crawling up the bed, knees spread wide either side of Thor’s chest.

His hardness was apparent in the little black briefs he wore, and as Thor slipped his hands up Loki’s thighs the shape gave a pronounced twitch.

Teasing, Thor ran a thumb along the length of Loki’s cock, lifting his eyes to find green ones boring into him, lips parted.

They maintained their eye contact as Thor hooked his fingers in the waistband, carefully tugging the material down to uncover Loki’s cock; the deep pink of it a stark contrast to his pale torso and thighs. Freed, it curved up towards his belly from a nest of neatly trimmed dark hair.

“Pretty,” Thor said, not a line, taking hold and stroking Loki’s foreskin back.

Loki huffed out a breath, hips shifting forwards a little. “I think it likes you too.”

Mouth twitching into a brief smile, Thor slipped his hands around Loki’s hips to take hold of his arse, encouraging him closer until the tip of Loki’s cock just brushed his lips.

His heart was thrumming in his chest, a mixture of nerves, excitement and the come-down of his own orgasm. It had been some time since he’d had to pleasure anyone other than himself.

“How do you like it?” he murmured, not waiting for an answer before sneaking his tongue out to trace the pink tip.

Loki’s whole body seemed to shudder above him.

“Like that.” Loki’s voice was tight, his eyes set on Thor’s mouth. “Use your tongue.”

If there was one thing Thor was good at, it was following instructions.

Bringing one hand around Loki’s thigh to hold his cock in place, Thor swirled his tongue around the crown, happy when Loki let slip a breathy moan and the taste of skin suddenly gave way to the salted tang of pre-come.

Pulling his tongue back between his lips, Thor took a moment to familiarise himself with the taste. It had never been his favourite, sucking cock, but he hadn’t ever minded the taste, the proof of how much his partner was enjoying his efforts.

Gently, Loki reached down to brush Thor’s hair away from his face, using the movement to nudge his cock against Thor’s lips. A little ‘ _get on with it’_ disguised as a caress.

Smiling, Thor parted his lips again.

Loki’s hips rocked forwards as Thor let the flat of his tongue slide along the underside of Loki’s cockhead, exploring the sensitive ridge with the tip of his tongue. Loki’s cock twitched again, lifting momentarily before coming back for more.

With that, Thor leaned up to take Loki’s cock into his mouth, giving a gentle, testing suck. Loki shuddered above him, nudging his hips forwards, arsecheek tightening in Thor’s cupped hand.

“That’s enough gentle now,” Loki murmured, beginning to rock his hips slightly in rhythm, encouraging Thor to bob his head.

Taking him deeper, Thor felt himself begin to drool around Loki’s cock, creating a hot, wet suction that dragged a moan from Loki’s chest.

Loki wasn’t shy with his noises, humming and murmuring his pleasure as Thor worked his lips up and down, sucking in sharp breaths each time Thor flicked his tongue across the head, moaning as Thor’s own pleased sounds vibrated around his cock.

Thor had forgotten how much concentration it took; remembering to cover his teeth and use his tongue and keep up a steady suction, all while breathing through his nose. He was thankful when Loki planted his hands on the headboard and took control of the rhythm.

Fucking in and out of Thor’s mouth in sharp, shallow thrusts, he let out a hiss when Thor closed a fist around the rest of his length.

Each time he withdrew his hips for another shallow thrust, Thor made sure to let his tongue chase the tip of Loki’s cock.

He didn’t notice Loki’s hand leave the headboard until Loki pulled his hips back, letting his cock slip free of Thor’s mouth and replacing it with two of his fingers.

Dutifully Thor sucked them, confused only for a moment before Loki’s intentions became clear.

They were dripping when Loki pulled them free, and Thor watched, rapt, as Loki raised up on his knees and reached behind himself.

His face was a picture, concentration giving way to pleasure, and then he was lowering himself again to guide his cock back into Thor’s mouth.

The interruption barely broke the rhythm, but Loki’s thrusts were less controlled now, less polite, as he lost himself in the dual pleasure of his own fingers and Thor’s mouth.

He looked incredible, completely lost, head hanging between his shoulders and eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“In your mouth?” he asked, voice tight.

Not ‘ _can_ I come in your mouth?’ but ‘ _do you_ _want_ my come in your mouth?’

And Thor did, so instead of answering he gripped again at Loki’s arse to hold him in place, cheeks hollowing as he sucked with greedy determination.

Loki’s other hand left its white-knuckle grip on the headboard to wind in Thor’s hair, tightening as he clenched up and came in sweet little spasms, taste bursting onto Thor’s tongue.

Once he was done, body wracked with the force of his orgasm, he slumped, nearly bent double, and let out a long shuddering breath.

-

In the aftermath Loki tucked himself in against Thor’s chest, breath laboured and limbs heavy.

“Good?” Thor asked.

In answer, Loki opened one eye and stared up at him with an expression so sardonic that Thor couldn’t help but laugh until his chest rocked Loki’s head up and down.

Unimpressed, Loki clucked his tongue and leaned up onto his elbow.

“I’m glad that you’re pleased with yourself,” he murmured, tracing one finger between Thor’s pecs. “I hope you do so well when you fuck me.”

Ah.

"Can we..." Thor started, trailing one finger up along the back of Loki's arm. "How would you feel about postponing that part?"

Loki's eyebrows lifted.

"It's not that I don't want to," Thor rushed to say, gesturing loosely down at his hard cock. "It's just..."

"Your fight."

"Yeah."

Loki let out a gentle sigh, rolling back onto the pillows. He was clearly disappointed, but not objecting. "How long are you here for?"

"Until at least next Tuesday. We have a doctor who sees me after every fight and, depending on how well it goes, he may decide I need further care."

Loki frowned, showing concern for the first time since Thor has revealed his profession. "Is that likely?"

Thor shrugged. "I dunno. I've never been KO'd before but this guy packs a punch, so if he knocks me out I'm required by contract to agree to a CT scan."

He expected Loki to seem more surprised.

"And you believe that you'll lose if you have sex?”

Sighing slowly, Thor took hold of Loki’s hand and slid two fingers up the centre of his wrist, tracing the veins. Loki shivered.

“My trainer believes that it depletes your testosterone, makes you less aggressive, less likely to really go for the win.”

"Do you believe it?"

Unsure, Thor didn't respond. He'd never really questioned it, Heimdall wanted what was best for him. And it wasn't as though the sex ban had been a big problem for Thor since his mother's death; he'd thrown himself into his fighting at the cost of most of his personal relationships.

Loki laughed a little, seemingly taking Thor's silence as a no. “Sounds like nonsense to me. Surely being a good fighter is about skill and tactics rather than hormones?”

Thor shrugged. He wasn't interested in the science of it all, that's what Heimdall was for.

“I tell you what,” Loki whispered, lifting himself up and moving to straddle Thor’s hips. He brought his hands back to Thor’s torso, thumbing the dips between his abs. “I bet...you can fuck me right now and still win your title.”

As he said it he shifted his arse back against Thor’s hardness.

Despite his hesitation, Thor couldn't deny that he wanted it. He bit his lip, sliding his hands up Loki’s pale thighs, unrushed. “A bet? What do you get if you win?”

Loki hummed thoughtfully, swirling his hips in a slow circle. “You have to fuck me again, as many times as I want before you leave Helsinki.”

Thor swallowed, lifted his hands to grasp at Loki’s thighs, squeezing, sliding his palms up to assist the roll of Loki’s hips.  “And if I don't win the title?”

A shrug. “You'll never see me again.”

Stunned, Thor tightened his hold to still Loki’s movements.

With a smile that was verging on smug, Loki leaned down for a kiss. “Is that incentive enough for you to win?”

Thor wanted to accuse Loki of overestimating how much he wanted him, but he wasn't sure that was the truth.

“...hardly seems fair,” is all he could think to say. “I win the fight and you get me as a willing sex slave, I lose the fight and you disappear forever?”

“Mmm,” Loki hummed, lips soft against Thor’s own again, though not really kissing. “My sex slave. I like how that sounds.”

Instead of sitting back up Loki remained there, mouth inches from Thor’s, as he reached over to the bedside table.

“Wait…” Thor said, but he did nothing to halt Loki as he took hold of a sachet of lube.

“I don’t want to wait.” Loki kissed him once, a short press of lips. “And neither do you.”

Sitting up, he brought the sachet to his mouth and tore it open with his teeth, making a show of slicking his fingers while Thor could only lie there and watch.

“You’re going to fuck me,” Loki said matter of factly, reaching behind himself again, “And then you’re going to destroy The Seven Foot Finn.”

Thor took Loki’s sharp intake of breath to mean that he’d breached himself again with his fingers.

When he opened his eyes, Loki already looked a little dazed. “And then you’re going to fuck me some more.”

The shift of his upper arm and shoulder told Thor he was fucking himself, and Thor took hold of his own cock. Loki audibly moaned at the sight, as if just the thought of having it inside him was too much.

“Put one on,” Loki murmured, tilting his chin towards the condoms on the bedside table.

Thor did as asked in a rush, cock twitching in his hand as he rolled the condom carefully down, unable to resist giving himself a quick stroke.

Loki tore open another sachet between his teeth and then liberally dribbled the cold lube over Thor’s covered cock, tossing the packet aside and immediately shifting further up the bed.

Thor took Loki’s hips in his hands to help, hands shaking with anticipation as Loki settled just above his hips.

There was a short, wet sound as Loki slipped his fingers free, and then he was reaching further back to find Thor’s cock with his slick hand.

They both gasped as his cockhead brushed the furled muscle of Loki’s entrance, and then after barely a breath Loki was bearing down.

And oh, Thor had forgotten this; the unparalleled pleasure of being allowed into the tight heat of somebody. He found himself suddenly grateful for his embarrassingly quick climax earlier, knowing he wouldn’t have gotten past this point.

Loki was incredible, using his weight to aid him in his goal of getting Thor all the way inside, not stopping until his shaking thighs rested flush against Thor’s.

“Wait-” Thor said again, grip tightening on Loki’s hips, and Loki laughed.

“Isn’t it supposed to be me asking you to wait?”

“I just want to…” Thor huffed, unsure how to finish his sentence without sounding stupid.

Slowly, purposefully, Loki tightened his muscles until Thor groaned. “You just want to feel me,” he offered.

Thor nodded.

Loki waited, but only for a moment further, and then he took up a slow roll of his hips, back and forth, which felt to Thor like the sweetest pleasure in the world. This time when he tightened his hold it was only to encourage Loki’s movements.

They rocked like that for what felt like long minutes, their breathing increasing, their bodies moving together like they had on the dancefloor. Once again Loki had full control of his body, his movements slick and controlled, slow and easy. It felt good, like a low and pleasant buzz in Thor’s stomach, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel the friction of his cock moving in and out of Loki’s heat, the catch of Loki’s rim around him, the way Loki would tighten around him each time he bottomed out, just a little too deep inside for comfort.

“Come on,” he said, trying to lift Loki’s hips but finding them stubborn.

Loki’s eyes gleamed as he stared down at him. “Come on what?”

Thor huffed, impatient. “Let me fuck you.”

His cock slipped free a little as Loki leaned down to press their lips together, and Thor took the opportunity to fuck up into him. Loki let out a surprised gasp, not quite ready for it, and as a dark heat bloomed low in Thor’s belly he wondered if he enjoyed that a little too much.

When Loki sat back up, lowering himself until Thor was fully seated inside him, he only took up his steady rocking again, allowing Thor no room to thrust or gain any real friction.

“Loki…” he said, low, a warning.

Again, Loki laughed at him. “I thought you just wanted to feel me, Thor?”

Tired of being teased, Thor hooked his arms beneath Loki’s thighs and lifted him off just enough to flip them in one swift, smooth motion. Loki let out a breathless laugh, thrilled, and opened his mouth - no doubt to say something clever. Thor, though, utilised his hold on Loki’s thighs to shove them up, and whatever Loki was about to say broke off into a moan as Thor parted his cheeks with rough thumbs.

“That’s it,” he hissed, voice jumping as Thor pressed the head of his cock back to the slick clutch of his hole. “Fuck me hard.”

_“Is that what you want? You want me to hurt you?”_

_“Maybe a little.”_

Thor growled, using all the leverage he had to force himself inside, revelling in how readily Loki’s body opened for him, how welcoming Loki’s heat was despite the rough treatment. He’d never fucked like this; always the good boy, always thoughtful and gentle, careful not to let his need get the better of him.

Each deep thrust forced Loki’s breath from his body in a gasp, and the tendons in Loki’s neck strained as he pressed his head back into the pillow and let out a pleased, breathy laugh.

“I knew it,” he said, grinning around the words. “I knew you’d be-”

The rest was lost in a choked groan as Thor pressed one of Loki’s knees against his chest, holding it there tightly enough to force the air from his body, to shut his smug mouth.

It had the added benefit of allowing Thor to fit himself more tightly against Loki’s body and - there it was, that sound he’d been seeking; the sharp little whine of discomfort as he fucked just _that little bit_ too deep.

He did it again for good measure.

“You like that?” he asked, a breathy growl. His turn to be smug. “Tell me.”

Loki’s mouth morphed back into that pretty, _infuriating_ grin, but he said nothing.

Determined to get it out of him, Thor leaned down, covering Loki’s body with his own, and moved his hips in tight, deep little thrusts until Loki’s eyes rolled closed, but still he didn’t get what he wanted. Instead, short, sharp nails raked down his back. It took a moment for the sting to set in, and then Thor growled in surprise, responding with a punishing jab of his hips, an accident, that made Loki wail.

Belatedly, Thor remembered Heimdall across the hall and brought his hand to cover Loki’s mouth, Loki’s lips and breath hot against his palm, and it took Thor a moment to realise that Loki was laughing.

He stilled, feeling in over his head all of a sudden, worried he’d gone too far or that maybe Loki was insane. He’d been fucked to wailing and was _laughing_  about it.

Loki pushed his hand away from his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured, voice still tinged with amusement but mostly apologetic. “Come on, I like it, I like it, I’ll be quiet I promise.”

His hands scrabbled at Thor’s arse, his knees and thighs squeezing tight around Thor’s waist as he tried to lift his hips.

Thor had felt desperate since they’d gotten into the cab. This was the first time Loki had seemed desperate too.

Thor stared down at him. “Say it again.”

One of Loki’s dark brows arched.

“I like it,” he murmured. This time when Loki lifted his hips Thor went with it, allowing him to set a rhythm again, slow at first but building.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he murmured, already feeling himself begin to lose control of his breathing.

Loki leaned up to lick at his mouth, murmuring, “Felt like your cock was making a space for itself beneath my ribs, and I-”

At his words, Thor involuntarily gave another too-sharp thrust.

“- I fucking love it.”

Thor liked how his accent sounded around the word _fucking_ , liked the way he was with words.

He pulled back, taking hold of Loki by the back of the knees and pressing them, both this time, up against his chest, parted so he could see Loki’s full cock bobbing against his stomach.

He pressed back in, deep but slow, so that he could enjoy Loki’s brows drawing in and the clench of his jaw as he nestled his way deep inside. With each slow thrust that followed Loki’s eyes drifted further closed until his dark lashes rested against the flushed top of his cheeks, his breaths giving way to low moans, tight little sounds that stoked Thor’s arousal.

And as Thor began to give in to that arousal, as each rock of his hips came just a little quicker than the one before, Loki’s eyes blinked open to reveal pupils so blown that barely any of his green iris was visible.

Thor was sure now that despite Loki’s earlier assertions about liking a little pain he’d never actually been fucked like this, so deeply. He’d fantasised about it, no doubt, but he’d never had someone this big and willing to give him what he wanted.

Taking Loki’s hands from where they lay on the bed, Thor pressed them to the crooks of his knees. _Hold them here._

“I’m going to ruin you,” Thor murmured, an unexpected sense of affection in his chest despite his words.

Loki licked out at his dry lips, nodding. “I know.”

With that said and acknowledged, Thor let go of any sense of control, filling Loki again and again, deep and hard and with all the power he had. By chance and not design he found an angle that had Loki keening in his chest on every thrust and he kept at that as well as he could, ignoring the burn in his own thighs.

Loki’s promise to keep quiet was forgotten quickly enough, sustained moans and rambling Finnish sentences that grew and grew in volume, and Thor again placed a hand across his mouth.

“Shhh,” he hissed, still fucking deep, giving it all he had.

Suddenly Loki’s whole body seemed to tighten, his hole clenching so sweetly in pulses around Thor’s cock. It was only belatedly that Thor felt the pain in the meat of his palm where Loki had bitten down. The mixture of pleasure and pain making him dizzy as he held himself still deep inside Loki to feel the pulse and clench of his shaking, spasming orgasm.

Finally Loki’s jaw relaxed, his knees dropping from his sides and Thor tore his hand away with a hiss, studying the deep red half-moons Loki’s bite had left behind.

He pulled his cock free, hard and straining up towards his belly, and kneeled up to press his other palm against the bite.

“I’m sorry,” Loki murmured, but he didn’t sound it.

Slowly, like his body was struggling to comply, he sat himself up, legs either side of Thor’s knees, and shuffled himself closer, reaching up to pull the condom off. Thor watched him, still breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said again, laying a kiss on the underside of Thor’s cock.

He looked bizarrely innocent, staring up at Thor like that.

Instead of taking Thor into his mouth he tipped his head back, lips parted and tongue out, wrapping those long, delicate fingers around the girth of Thor’s cock. Thor stared down at him, breathing heavily, still cradling one hand in the other even as his pain was forgotten in the easy rhythm of Loki’s strokes.

It wasn’t as intense as their fucking, nowhere near, but Thor was rapidly approaching the edge regardless, obscenely into the idea of coming right into Loki’s waiting mouth. Loki’s other hand slipped up the inside of his thigh to cup and squeeze his sack and Thor’s hips twitched forwards abruptly as pleasure ripped through him.

He came on Loki’s tongue and up his cheek, taking grim pleasure in marking his face.

Loki only swept it up with his thumb and sucked it into his mouth with the rest, making a show of swallowing before dropping himself back to lie on the bed.

When Thor followed, Loki muttered, “ _Aivan vitun mahtavaa._ ”

Thor huffed out a laugh. “I still don’t speak Finnish.”

“I said get out of my bed,” Loki said. Thor suspected that wasn’t a true translation.

He rolled over and threw an arm around Loki’s waist. “It’s my bed.”

“Oh god,” Loki groaned good-naturedly. “You cuddle.”

In affirmation Thor nuzzled closer, enjoying the intoxicating scent of Loki post-sex, hoping his own scent lingered on Loki too.

“Well I’m not staying,” Loki said dryly, but he didn’t fight Thor off, and before long they were both asleep.

-

The bed beside him was empty and cold when Thor woke up. His alarm bleated out for a full minute while he lay there staring up at the ceiling, surprised by his own disappointment.

-

The press conference was taking place somewhere on the ground floor of the hotel, and even as he made his approach Thor could hear the excited murmur of the gathered journalists.

Heimdall was at his back, right behind him as always, supporting and oppressing all at once. Fandral fell into step beside him with a wink.

“You remember your insults?”

Courting the press was part of the pre-fight tradition. Whereas the weigh-in later in the week was for technicality and to make sure both fighters were in the correct form for their division, the press conference and face-to-face were for showmanship and intimidation. Thor had always needed to be coached on what to say, the vitriol never coming as easily as the violence.

“Yeah,” Thor said with a bored shrug. “He's big, he's ugly, I'm gonna beat him.”

He didn't care much for the show-pony part of the sport, preferring to let his fists speak for themselves.

Before they passed through the double doors into the conference room Fandral dragged him to a stop, spinning him only long enough to fix his tie - red, like the colour of the shorts he wore for fighting - and brushing off his shoulders.

“You look great,” he said, nodding.

Heimdall sighed, shouldering past them to stand before the doors. “It’s a press conference not a bloody beauty pageant.”

Fandral clucked his tongue. “The golden boy has a fanbase, you know.”

With a roll of his eyes, Heimdall gestured for them both to follow and then pushed his way inside, the doors giving way immediately to the noise of a crowd. Between the reporters and their camera crews there must have been a hundred people packed into the conference room, and Thor squared his shoulders as he and his crew made their entrance.

The clicks and flashes were immediate, the voices falling into a low drone as he walked confidently towards his side of the small stage.

The Seven Foot Finn entered from double doors at the opposite side of the room, the two of them no doubt making for a good video clip as they approached each other with determined faces.

Thor had only seen him on television and in videos Heimdall had used for training, but in person the guy was even bigger than he expected - he wasn’t actually seven feet tall, of course, but he wasn’t far off - and his once-long hair had been shaved on either side leaving just a stripe of jet-black hair slicked back in a hawk.

Focused initially on the champion, it took Thor a moment to take in the rest of the fighter's crew.

His team massively outnumbered Thor’s, not only because it was his home country but also because he’d held the belt for almost two years.

The journalists and photographers loved it, scribbling down notes and taking endless photographs of the fighter’s team. Thor had to admit it was somewhat impressive; they moved behind him in formation like geese in flight, their footfalls in unsettling unison like a small army. All the while their champion was staring right at Thor.

“It's a scare tactic,” Heimdall said at Thor’s shoulder, as if reading his mind.

He sounded as tense as Thor felt, and it was only then that Thor really appreciated how new this kind of success and fanfare was for Heimdall too. For years Heimdall’s gym had been a labour of love, lucrative enough but not known for its successful fighters. An ex-fighter himself, Heimdall had possessed all of the required knowledge but had lacked a talented enough fighter to bestow it upon.

Until Thor.

“You don't need all that,” Heimdall waved a loose hand, voice gruff and determined. “Your fighting speaks for itself.”

And Thor nodded, believing him. He had to, or there'd be no point in him being there.

There was a table on the stage, long enough to seat just five people, nowhere near big enough for his opponent’s excessive crew, and as the flashing cameras settled the champion’s team began to break formation, filtering into nearby seats and leaving just three people behind.

The champion, his manager, and one other face, familiar enough to make Thor’s blood run cold.

_Loki._


	2. All That I Had Left To Give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Mona](http://thoresque.tumblr.com/) for the beta-read on this one, she really came to my rescue!

Thor’s step faltered, confusion sweeping through him as he struggled to properly compute that the man he’d spent the night with was now at the shoulder of his rival.

“Who’s that?” he glanced back at Fandral and aimed his chin over at Loki, dread settling in his stomach as Loki stepped closer to The Seven Foot Finn and the answer became fairly apparent all on its own.

Black hair, pale skin, the same green eyes. Helblindi Laufeyson was far bulkier and taller but, while Loki had neither the scarred chin nor the crooked nose, the resemblance was clear as day once they stood in close proximity.

Fandral shrugged after a quick glance. “Brother? Cousin? What does it matter?”

As they climbed the steps up on to the stage, Thor had to fight to drag his eyes back to his opponent, shaken by the revelation that Loki was related to the title holder and had failed to mention it.

Helblindi offered Thor a smug snarl as they each took their seats at the long conference table to face the journalists with their coaches, with Loki remaining on his feet at Helblindi’s shoulder, mirroring Fandral’s position at Thor’s.

Once everyone was settled, a deep-voiced announcer stepped forward and addressed the crowd, dramatically listing the event sponsors before turning to introduce the head of their press conference who sat between Heimdall and Laufeyson’s manager at the centre of the table.

“Welcome everyone, and thank you for coming today to this most exciting event,” he said.

Thor had met him several times since the Olympics, knew his face well. He was from United Sports TV, one of Thor’s official sponsors, and had a vested interest in Thor’s success. Thor was surprised that Laufeyson’s team had agreed to him heading the conference given the potential for bias.

“I have the pleasure, today, of sitting between two of the most exciting individuals in the history of our sport.”

There was a small smattering of claps, but almost everyone else was gripped by the enthusiasm in his voice as he regaled them with the history of the two fighters. Thor already knew it all, certainly knew his own fighting history but had also been forced to read and watch and _re-read_ and _re-watch_ Laufeyson’s public history in the sport.

They came from money, the Laufeysons, and Helblindi’s parents had been vocally dismayed by his decision to take up boxing as more than a hobby, refusing to address it publicly right up until the point that he’d begun to take belts and win the hearts of his country’s boxing fans.

By the time he’d won his first championship belt he’d had the full support of his parents again - financially and otherwise.

As the speech went on Thor found himself pondering where exactly Loki fit into the Laufeyson history. Had he been at the fighter’s side all along, a voice of support from the start, or like the parents had he climbed aboard only once Helblindi’s star began to rise?

It was a struggle for Thor not to lean backwards a little in his seat and look down the table, curious as to whether he’d find himself looking at the neat lines of Loki’s profile or whether Loki would be looking over at him too.

"And now the spotlight falls on Thor Odinson,” the hype-man said, shaking Thor from his thoughts. “-whose rapid climb into the big leagues of boxing has re-awakened the imaginations of the British public. Is Odinson about to drive us into a new era of British boxing, or will The Seven Foot Finn once again protect his title and continue his dominance of the European heavyweight division?"

Heimdall nudged Thor with his elbow. "A new era," he murmured. "I like the sound of that."

A loud, slow clap, sarcastic if a clap could be such a thing, rang out from the other side of the table - Laufeyson’s answer to the question - and Thor made every effort to keep his expression stoic.

Laufeyson's manager was invited to speak next, spending the entirety of his two minutes praising his champion, his physical and mental shape, his ability to not only win but _win with ease_. Thor expected no less, sure that Heimdall would do the same when given his chance.

And he did, of course.

Sucking in a deep breath before he spoke, Heimdall leaned almost imperceptibly closer to the mic in front of him.

"I've had the rare privilege of watching my fighter grow up,” he said, his voice filled with a sincerity and pride that Thor hadn’t quite been expecting. “Almost never have I witnessed the levels of resilience that Thor Odinson has shown in his life, first as a boy and now as a man and a fighter.”

Thor looked sidelong at him. They hadn’t discussed what Heimdall was going to say, and he was taken aback.

Heimdall must’ve felt his gaze, because without looking away from the journalists he reached out to pat Thor on the arm.

“That's how I know he's going to win this title,” he continued. “He has the strength and ability to match his opponent and more than enough humility and fortitude to better him. He and I both look forward to bringing the belt back to the UK."

The journalists seemed to love it, muttering amongst themselves and scribbling in their pads as they soaked up Heimdall’s cool charisma and his faith in his fighter. The hype-man allowed a few beats to let their excitement hang before introducing Laufeyson to say his piece.

The Seven Foot Finn leaned backwards slightly in his chair, relaxed as anything, and shrugged.

“Hi,” he said, smirking. His deep voice, nothing like Loki’s except for the accent, carried with ease to the small microphone. "I'm the champion, I plan to remain the champion. Boxing is my obsession, winning is my goal.”

It was nothing Thor hadn’t heard before in other press conferences, but then…

“I'm in Thor Odinson's head,” he said, prodding roughly at his own temple.

With that, Thor glanced past him to Loki. _In his head._ Was that what last night had been? A reconnaissance mission to scope Thor out?

Loki wasn’t looking at him, but the curve on his lips seemed to speak volumes, confirming Thor’s growing suspicions.

Laufeyson’s deep voice continued, a slow and confident drawl. "I know his worries and his fears. I know how he thinks."

That was it then. Loki had reported back everything Thor confided in him. Fuck.

Thor was glowering at the side of Loki’s head when Helblindi turned to face him, eyes hard and serious, drawing his attention from Loki.

"You will not take that belt back to the UK with you,” he said, sure. “It is mine."

Cameras flashed desperately in the hopes of catching the moment that one fighter addressed the other, journalists no doubt thrilled by the dismissive way Laufeyson had spoken to him.

Thor plasted a smile on his face, displaying false nonchalance while frantically trying to work out in his mind what dirt he’d given Loki.

It was his turn to speak, once the applause slowed to a stop, and for a moment he struggled to remember what Heimdall had coached him to say.

A sea of faces, expectant, stared at him while he tried to drag his mind away from Loki and the humiliation.

Did Laufeyson know that Thor had come in his pants? Jesus.

Heimdall cleared his throat, shoe nudging Thor’s beneath the table.

"Thank you all for your time, first of all,” Thor said, forcing the smile back on his face. “It's a pleasure to be here, and for that I thank my coach, and the constant support of United Sports TV.”

He gave both Heimdall and the announcer a nod before turning back to face the journalists.

"Unlike my opponent, I don't make a habit of underestimating people. I have trained harder and longer for this fight than any other, I have dedicated every waking hour to this."

He could feel Laufeyson’s gaze burning into the side of his head.

“I’m not going to sit here and pretend it won’t be tough. Laufeyson is quite fond of that belt.” That gets a laugh, and his smile grows more genuine with it. “But he can’t keep it forever.”

As a final word it didn’t pack as much of a punch as Laufeyson’s did, but Heimdall gave Thor a nod.

Next the journalists were afforded the chance to ask their own questions, and the moment the floor was open their hands shot collectively into the air.

A neatly-dressed lady at the front of the stage stepped forwards, attempting to gain some order as reporters jostled and shouted to have their questions answered.

Thor had expected a translator but everybody was shouting in English, waving pens, notepads or hands in the air to get first dibs on a question.

“Laufeyson,” The first journalist said, pen at the ready to jot down an answer. “How are you feeling coming into your third title fight?”

Laufeyson pondered the question, hunching toward the microphone in such a way that showed off the sheer size of his biceps even through the white shirt he was wearing. He was even uglier in profile; the pixie-like sharpness of his features an odd contrast to his thick, square jaw and his lips curling into a natural snarl as he spoke.

“I feel strong,” he said, voice gruff. He seemed relaxed, used to this environment, and he glanced over at Thor briefly. “I’m not worried.”

Thor clenched his teeth and did his best to look amused, unbothered by his opponent’s jibes, but in reality there was an anger simmering beneath the surface that he’d never felt toward an opponent before.

Loki still wasn’t looking at him, dutifully facing the journalists with his hands clasped at his back.

“Any response, Odinson?” the same journalist asked, pen ready by his pad.

Thor let out a low breath, managed a shrug of his own. “As I said, I have no plans to underestimate him. I just hope he doesn’t underestimate me or this fight will be over very quickly.”

Laufeyson sneered and sat back, waving a dismissive hand.

The next reporter, a pretty redhead who looked a little out of her element, stood when she was selected, face tilted down at her notes until the very last moment when she looked up to address Thor.

“Mr Odinson,” she said politely, shy perhaps. “How have you found Helsinki so far?”

Plastering a charming smile on his face, Thor tried to push his swirling thoughts about Loki to the back of his mind.

“Cold,” he said, pausing for the small chuckle that recieved. “No, it’s beautiful. I feel very lucky to be here.”

She nodded, jotting down some notes. “Have you had a chance to visit much of the city outside of your training?”

_A gay bar_ , he thinks. From the corner of his eye he can tell that Loki is looking at him now.

“Well we’ve only just arrived, really, but I hope to see more of Helsinki in the coming days. Between all the training, of course.”

She smiled, nodding her thanks, before turning just slightly to the other end of the table. “Mr Laufeyson, this is the first title fight to be held in Finland since 2011. Are you proud to have brought the championship back to your home country?”

For the first time, Laufeyson seemed to soften, offering the journalist a smile that seemed genuine. “I’m very proud,” he said softly, nodding. “To have brought not only the belt but also the championship to Helsinki, to defend my title in front of my countrymen.”

He leaned back then, reaching up to grasp Loki’s shoulder.

“And, of course, to have my brother in my corner as I retain the title is a happy bonus.”

He jostled Loki with his big hand, and Loki smiled down at him, seeming to momentarily bask in the attention of the crowd before suddenly lifting his eyes to meet Thor’s. His expression was unreadable, neither cold nor warm, but his lips still curved up at the edges with a touch of smugness that made Thor’s jaw tick.

“For the Finn,” a young man with three pens in his chest pocket asked next, drawing attention back from Loki, who seemed to shrink back into his position at Laufeyson’s shoulder. “When you first heard that Thor Odinson wanted to challenge you, what were your thoughts?”

Laufeyson chewed his lip in thought for a moment. “We had to check him out, of course. Decide whether or not it was worth my time.”

Thor carefully didn’t allow his expression to change, unwilling to let his anger about Loki allow him to look like he couldn’t take a little banter.

“And then we decided, okay, we’ll give the little Olympian a chance to prove himself.”

It had been a long, long time since Thor had been called _little_ , and he made a point of raising his brows for the journalists to see.

The journalist nodded. “And what do you think of him now that you’ve met him in person?”

Turning lazily to appraise Thor, Laufeyson adopted another smirk. “He looked bigger on Google.”

A laugh.

Thor grunted, unamused.

“And Mr Odinson?” Another reporter asked, waving a hand to pose the same question. “Your thoughts on The Seven Foot Finn?”

Thor shrugged. “I’m just relieved to see he only has two feet.”

A bigger laugh, coupled with a rich chuckle from Heimdall. They hadn’t rehearsed that one. Glancing to see Helblindi’s reaction, Thor instead caught a glimpse of Loki smothering a laugh.

The questions that followed were all in a similar vein, each one an attempt to prod the fighters into insulting one another, and they gave into it for the sake of entertainment.

And with each barb they exchanged, each cutting insult, Loki’s grin only seemed to get more and more manic.

But then one older journalist stood up, addressing Helblindi with a serious expression. "What happens next Saturday night?"

"I win," Laufeyson said, sure. "That's it."

Thor smiled, shrugging one shoulder. "We'll see about that."

-

The fighters and their teams filed out leaving the room full of journalists to get loud and excited again, talking and shouting amongst themselves in a way that reminded Thor of being back in school when the teacher left the classroom.

“Come on,” Heimdall grunted, shoving his way through the next set of doors back towards the foyer, no doubt wanting to be back in the lift up to their floor before the journalists could spill out of the conference room.

“You ready?” Fandral grinned when the lift doors closed behind them, shuffling around Thor in the small space with his fists up by his face in imitation of a fighting stance.

Thor glanced over, still too distracted to offer any more than a forced smile.

Last time he’d been heading up to his room Loki had been in the lift with him, coyly batting his lashes, tucked into the same corner that Heimdall now occupied.

“What’s up with you?” Fandral huffed, dropping his fists.

Heimdall patted Thor on the upper arm as the lift doors opened, “Leave him alone for a minute, he’s got a lot to think about.”

He didn’t know how right he was.

-

Thor’s bed had been tidied by a maid while the conference went on but, even without the crumpled sheets and the lingering smell of sex, Thor found himself standing at the foot of the bed and staring at it as if it was the bed itself, and not Loki, that had betrayed him. Got one over on him.

Moments they’d shared kept rushing to the forefront of his mind as if fighting for the top spot, and the more he analysed the more obvious it seemed that Loki had been up to something. The way Loki had shouldered in right next to him, pressed his body up against Thor’s, the dance designed specifically to seduce.

He’d even known the _hotel_.

Thor felt like a fool.

And of course Loki had insisted they fuck despite Thor’s hesitations, even after they’d both already got off.

Even after Thor had come in his pants after about five seconds of Loki’s mouth on him.

Covering his eyes in embarrassment, Thor turned his back from the bed, breathing heavily in the middle of the room, trying not to let his shame turn into even more anger.

Loki had been so understanding, so kind about it, giving Thor the time he needed to recover. And it had all been fake.

When he opened his eyes again he spied the book Heimdall had made him, the one full of pictures of Helblindi Laufeyson. He remembered how Loki had stood and looked at it, quiet and curious.

Had he been secretly smug then, knowing that Thor had studied his brother so hard? Or had...oh god. Had he been dreading what he had to do next? Dreading climbing into bed with Thor on the orders of his brother?

Had he wanted it at all?

Fuck. _Fuck_.

Thor was still pacing the room long minutes later when Fandral knocked to call him downstairs, and Thor scrambled to get into his sparring gear.

“What took you so long?” Fandral asked when Thor finally opened the door, having left him standing on the corridor for far longer than was polite.

Thor grunted, shouldering past him to head for the lift. “I was taking a shit.”

At that, Fandral barked out a laugh and fell into step beside him.

-

Fandral was the perfect sparring partner for Thor; afraid to bruise neither his skin or his ego, unwilling to pull his punches to make Thor look or feel better.

He’d been the first person to ever make Thor bleed with his fists, in the first few months after Thor’s mother had died and Heimdall had coaxed him to the gym to work off a little of his anger at the world. Thor had been lobbing frustrated jabs at a punching bag for weeks by the time Heimdall had agreed to let him spar with anyone, and when he’d set his eyes on Fandral - slight in comparison, and a little foppish - he’d laughed.

He hadn’t been laughing for long, not once he’d sat crumpled in the corner of the ring with a wad of tissues under his nose.

Fandral had crouched before him with a smile and patted him on the shoulder. _“You have to be more than just big to win in this sport,”_ he’d said. And then, holding out a hand, _“Sorry about your nose. Friends?”_

They’d been practically side by side ever since; the faithful sparring partner and the rising star.

-

The lift took them down to the basement level which housed not only the hotel gym but also, temporarily, a specially-built ring that both competitors would be using for sparring throughout the week.

Heimdall was already down there when the doors opened to allow Thor and Fandral access, bent over the built-in sound system with an employee of the hotel.

As Thor and Fandral approached the ring, Heimdall’s favourite sparring playlist crackled to life over the speakers.

“Where is he then?” Fandral called out, looking around for Laufeyson.

It was standard fare for competitors to watch each other spar, to get one final look at how their competitors have trained specifically for them, to stand ring-side and see for themselves the strengths and weaknesses their challenger possessed.

Thor hadn’t wanted to go first, especially not on the same day as the press conference, but he’d conceded in the end at the behest of Heimdall who wanted it over and done with so they could focus on physio and fight-prep.

“He’ll be here,” Heimdall called back, changing the song and pointing at them both. “Get your gloves on.”

They dumped their bags in the corner, pulling out their gloves and wrap before tugging their t-shirts over their heads. Thor’s sparring shorts were almost identical to his fight shorts, a rich red material with gold waistband that read _‘The_ _Thunderer'_ in black text.

Tongue in cheek, to amuse themselves for than anything else, they’d had Fandral’s waistband altered to read his self-chosen nickname, ‘ _The Dashing_ ’.

By the time they’d both gloved up and climbed into the ring, The Seven Foot Finn and his entourage had filled the space, settling into the line of fold-out chairs with bored expressions on their faces.

Loki was there too, of course, sitting to his brother’s right with his eyes fixed on Thor.

For a moment Thor’s gaze got stuck on him too.

Even in the low-lighting of the basement he looked infuriatingly attractive.

Fandral faked a jab in Thor’s direction, batting him softly on the nose with his glove when he didn’t react. “Don’t get distracted, we’re supposed to be showing them what you can do.”

Heimdall grunted as he lifted himself into the ring, and Thor lifted his gloves dutifully to protect his face. Fandral was still faking jabs here and there; making noises with his mouth, and with a laugh Thor batted his fist away, shuffling in a tight, playful circle.

“The fuck is this?” Heimdall suddenly growled, stepping up behind him.

Confused, Thor tried to turn to face him but was manhandled back around, feeling a short, sharp pain beneath his right shoulder blade as Heimdall touched his skin.

He felt heat rush to his face, not just from embarrassment but from the memory of it too - Loki, tight and hot around him, the pair of them moving together, breathing each other’s desperate breaths, and then the scrape of short, sharp nails against his skin.

It hadn’t occurred to him that Loki’s enthusiasm had left more than a superficial mark.

Fandral leaned around him to look, letting out a low whistle. Thor could only imagine the long pink stripes Loki’s nails had left in their wake.

“I can’t believe you,” Heimdall hissed low, clearly aware of their audience.

Thor glanced around, finding Laufeyson’s entire crew had now joined Loki in staring at them.

“No sex in training!” Heimdall’s jaw was tight. “How much clearer can I be? What sort of idiot fucks out all of his aggression days before a fight?”

Eyes lowered in contrition, Thor frowned. “Heimdall, come on.”

He knew he’d fucked up, but the last thing he needed was his opponent’s entire team witnessing him getting a talking down from his coach.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Heimdall murmured, levelling Thor with a thoroughly disappointed look. “I guess we all put months of effort into training you up to win this belt just so you could empty your bollocks into some one night stand.”

Naturally Thor’s eyes caught on Loki again across the room, his tight pink mouth and his striking face. A one night stand. And one that, it now seemed likely, had been purposefully laid in his path to put him at a disadvantage.

Heimdall was right. He’d let his guard down, allowed himself to be swept up in the moment and now there was a very real chance that it could cost him the belt.

And when Loki’s eyes lifted to meet Thor’s, he smirked.

-

They ate dinner together in stark silence while other hotel guests conversed comfortably around them. Fandral had tried at first to nurture some small-talk about the menu but he’d soon given up, focusing instead on his food.

Across the dining room Laufeyson and some of his team were talking jovially in their native tongue, nudging one another and laughing in bursts.

Loki was nowhere to be seen, and Thor was glad of it, stomach rolling at the thought.

Heimdall ate a soup starter, tearing off chunks of bread as if it had personally offended him, and only glanced at the mains menu before apparently deciding he didn’t want anything.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, seat scraping the floor as he stood.

“Heimdall,” Thor sighed, racked with guilt and upset that his coach was so disappointed in him.

Heimdall didn’t look back.

-

Around half-nine the following morning Fandral knocked, just as Thor was getting out of the shower. He lounged in the living room while Thor dried and dressed himself, flicking through channels on the big television.

“Don’t touch the minibar!” Thor called when he heard the tell-tale clinking of small bottles.

Fandral huffed. “It’s not even midday, what do you think I am?”

It occurred to Thor then that Fandral was checking that Thor hadn’t touched the minibar, no doubt on Heimdall’s orders.

“Do you think he’ll ever trust me again?” he asked, pulling his big jacket on and heading for the door.

Fandral shrugged. “Ah, probably. Eventually. After a lot of moody silences and punishing training sessions.”

Pulling the door closed behind him until it clicked solidly shut, Thor sighed. “Great.”

They fell into step heading for the lifts at the bottom of the corridor, and Fandral gave him a couple of solid nudges with his elbow. “Come on. At least tell me who she was.”

Immediately Thor regretted putting his jacket on inside. It may have been freezing outside the hotel but inside the temperature was fine, and between that and the panic of Fandral’s quizzing he was starting to overheat.

The lift was way up on the fourteenth floor, the penthouse suites, when they pressed the button, and Fandral didn’t stop his wheedling push for juicy details until he was interrupted by the ding of the arriving lift.

But when the doors whirred open Thor stopped in his tracks, finding the small space occupied...not only by The Finn but Loki too.

Helblindi seemed to take up most of the space even though he was slouching casually into the corner, and he didn’t even fix his posture upon seeing Thor, clearly confident enough in his ability to intimidate.

Fandral stepped inside first, nodding tightly at the pair in the lift. He pressed the already-lit Ground Floor button as if that might speed up the journey.

Thor turned his back on Loki and his brother as soon as he steps inside, choosing instead to watch the numbers on the digital screen as they descended the floors.

“Eighth floor,” The Finn said, humming a little. Clearly they’d come from the penthouse. “They must reserve the top floor for champions.”

Thor’s jaw tightened. “I guess I’ll see it next time then,” he snapped back.

The Finn snorted but didn’t reply directly, instead peeling off into a fast-paced conversation in Finnish.

Whatever he said made Loki laugh, and Thor’s fists clenched at his sides.

As the doors opened Fandral patted him on the back, using the same hand to guide him out of the lift.

“Ignore them,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just tactics.”

Thor nodded, thankful for his friend’s grounding words, but he couldn’t help but glance Loki’s way as the Finns passed them heading for the glass doors of the hotel entrance. The smirk he received only served to further ignite his fury.

He was getting sick of seeing that look on Loki’s face.

“What happens if I kill him?” Thor growled.

Fandral laughed, no doubt assuming he was talking about Helblindi.

-

They ate in the breakfast room, with Heimdall arriving just five minutes or so after them and greeting them with a grumbled ‘morning’, to which Thor let out a sigh of relief.

Fandral and Heimdall enjoyed breakfast danishes after their bacon, while Thor was handed a specially-made salmon dish with an overly-large pile of barely-steamed vegetables.

As always, he tucked in without complaint.

After breakfast he had a physio session, followed by ‘light’ training - which Heimdall definitely used as an excuse to whack him around the head harder than usual - and then room service lunch in Heimdall’s room while they discussed, for what seemed like the four hundredth time, Helblindi’s fighting style and how Thor was going to dismantle it.

After lunch, it was Thor’s turn to see Helblindi spar.

-

Helblindi and his team crowded the nearest corner of the ring, murmuring lowly as if suspicious that one of Thor’s crew secretly spoke Finnish.

Heimdall, armed with a brand new notepad with which to make notes on Helblindi’s fight, sat tapping his pen impatiently. Fandral was scrolling through his phone, already bored.

To their left, with his elbows on the edge of the ring, stood Loki. Standing so still in the harsh, industrial light of the basement he looked almost like a marble statue.

Then, as if sensing that Thor’s eyes were on him, he arched his back just-so, just enough that Thor’s eyes slid, of their own volition, to the curve of his arse.

When he managed to drag his eyes away and back up to Loki’s face he found himself being watched, that ever-present smirk aimed at him. Loki added a little wink for good measure, and Thor clenched his fist so hard he felt his knuckles creak.

“What’s he going to do, shadow-box?” Fandral huffed, giving Thor a solid nudge.

It was only then that it occurred to Thor that there wasn’t a sparring partner anywhere to be seen.

Loki, close enough to hear, lifted one corner of his mouth.

“Not quite,” he said over his shoulder, nodding to the double doors just as a tall, wide-shouldered fighter with long blond hair and red shorts entered the room, tugging red headgear on as he pulled himself into the ring.

Thor glanced to Fandral and Heimdall to gauge their reactions. A tight little frown creased Fandral’s forehead, but he didn’t say anything.

Heimdall tutted. “Don’t let him get into your head.”

Without his permission, Thor’s eyes dragged themselves back to Loki.

“Yeah,” he murmured. Helblindi getting in his head wasn’t the problem.

-

The ‘sparring’ was unfairly one-sided, the blond clearly nowhere near Laufeyson’s level and chosen more for his loose resemblance to Thor than his sparring ability. By the time Laufeyson was done with him he had a split lip and wobbly legs that didn’t quite allow him to escape the ring unaided.

“Poor guy didn’t stand a chance,” Fandral murmured, watching as the blond was slumped down into a chair and checked over by Laufeyson’s team.

Thor tore his eyes away to see Laufeyson grinning lazily as he unwound the wrap from his wrists, unconcerned by the state he’d left the other fighter in.

Loki stepped up beside Thor’s chair, hands cupped behind his back.

“He thought you’d like to see a visual representation of how your fight is going to go,” he said, that same smirk in his voice.

Thor didn’t even offer him a glance, sniffing dismissively as he picked up his things and stood, squaring his shoulders in the hopes of making Loki feel small. “I came here to see what he can do against a competent opponent. I’m not impressed by theatrics.”

Shouldering past him, it was all Thor could do to keep his eyes ahead.

-

Heimdall raged about the entire thing over room service in his room, pacing back and forth waving his empty notepad around while Thor picked at a disappointingly dry chicken breast and yet more crunchy veg.

“He’s not taking us seriously,” he said, jaw ticking.

The book he’d made, the one Loki had flicked through, sat on the bed underneath Thor’s dinner, Helblindi’s face like a placemat for Thor’s plate.

“I’m not worried,” Thor shrugged. He thought maybe he should be, since Helblindi had used underhanded tactics to get inside info on him and his mindset, but the more time he spent in the vicinity of the Laufeysons the more anger twisted up in his stomach, working itself into a tight knot of rage that he planned to unleash on Helblindi’s smug face.

Heimdall huffed, planting his hands on the desk across the room and lowering his head, the way he often did when he was deep in thought.

Fandral, ever the hero, did his best to sneak Thor a couple of his sweet potato fries, but it seemed that Heimdall’s all-seeing eyes functioned beyond just the boxing ring.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed as Thor lifted one of the fries to his mouth. He hadn’t even lifted his head.

-

Unable to settle, Thor waited until eleven o’clock when he was sure Heimdall would’ve raged himself into a deep sleep, before grabbing his gear and headed back down to the basement, bypassing the boxing ring and instead shouldering into the empty gym room.

Automatic lights, triggered by sensor, flickered to life as Thor entered and dumped his bag near the boxing equipment.

It wasn't a great bag, soft from overuse, but the sponsors hadn’t provided the hotel with a new one when they built the ring so it would have to do.

Each resounding thump of his gloved fists fell in line like the tick of a metronome, his careful, measured breaths adding to the percussion - _inhale_ -jab-cross- _exhale_ -jab-cross - sounding out a steady _thump thump_ into the room _._

Despite his anger, it wasn’t Loki’s face that he envisioned beneath his fists but his own. His own stupidity, his lack of willpower. They’d been measuring him up, testing his commitment, and Thor had well and truly failed. He’d barely even resisted.

_Thump thump_

For so long he’d prided himself on his dedication, his strength, but he’d proven himself to be weak. He’d let not just himself down, but his team too.

_Thump thump_

Before long his shoulders were beginning to ache, his heart pounding furiously in his chest, but he didn’t let up, didn’t slow his punishing pace, blinking away sweat and blowing loose, damp hair out of his eyes as he continued to pummel the bag, gritting his teeth to contain the roar he felt swelling up in his chest.

Then, somewhere behind him, a low creak.

Turning in surprise he caught a dark figure at the edge of his vision and his heart leapt. He missed his next swing, glove glancing off the worn leather, and he barely caught the heavy bag as it swung back at him.

Using both gloves to steady it he turned fully, blinking yet more sweat from his stinging eyes.

“Sorry,” said the figure across the room. Loki.

He didn't sound remotely apologetic.

Thor stood dumbfounded, shoulders rising and falling with his laboured breath as he stared. “What are you doing here?”

Loki lifted one shoulder in a shrug and stepped forwards. Thor immediately tensed, unsure what he'd do if Loki came any closer, fury still raging through him.

That Loki would come to find him, that he’d have the _nerve_...

“He's my brother,” Loki said, the admission coming days too late.

Lifting a gloved hand, Thor did his best to wipe his forehead. “Yeah, I worked that out all on my own, thanks.”

With his teeth, he yanked at the tie on his glove.

“Don't stop on my account,” Loki said, like he was teasing. Like this was as much of a game to him as it was to his brother. “I was quite enjoying it.”

Without acknowledging him Thor loosed his other glove and side-stepped the hanging bag to retrieve his duffel from the floor. He didn't want to hurt Loki, he had every intention of just walking away, leaving him behind without a glance.

But Loki had to open his mouth.

“Oh dear,” he said, tone mocking. “Don't tell me your feelings are hurt.”

Like a cord snapping, Thor was enveloped in a sudden heat; a burning, desperate need to get his hands on Loki, and he was powerless to stop it.

He was across the room in three strides, duffel bag dropping heavily to the floor.

The force of the wall at his back stole the air from Loki’s lungs in a low, pained wheeze, and still Thor leaned into him with all of his weight, one arm up beneath Loki’s chin and the other pressed tight against his stomach. Had Loki been any shorter he'd have been off the ground.

And still, his expression was one of utter pleasure rather than fear or contrition.

“Other fighters would’ve beaten you within an inch of your life by now,” Thor growled, teeth clenched, fury nowhere near satiated. He pushed a little harder, unable to help himself, curious to know how far he’d have to go before Loki’s thrill turned into fear.

He felt the delicate column of Loki’s throat begin to give beneath the press of his forearm. It wouldn't take much more pressure to do real, lasting damage, and yet Loki still didn't show fear.

“He's got a rotator cuff tear,” he wheezed, blinking up at Thor even as breathless tears began to form at the corners of his eyes.

Taken aback, Thor loosened his hold on reflex. “What?”

Sucking in a slow breath, Loki cleared his throat a little. Thor watched warily as he lifted his arm, miming a left hook against Thor’s jaw. “He had surgery in secret seven months ago but he's barely recovered, can't lift his arm so well. All you have to do is stay on his left.”

Thor shook his head. It had to be another trick. “I don't believe you.”

“Okay,” Loki shrugged. Lowering his hand from the faux-hook, he let his knuckles brush Thor’s jaw like a caress.

Quite sure that Loki was insane, Thor backed away. “What are you doing? Why would you tell me that?”

Still leaning up against the wall where Thor had put him, Loki shrugged. “What would please you most to hear? That I fell madly, accidentally in love with you and want you to win?”

Rolling his eyes, Thor moved to pull away. He wouldn’t stand around allowing Loki to mock him.

“You look like a man with a hero complex,” Loki continued, a little louder. “Maybe you need to hear that he mistreats me.”

Thor paused at that, a flicker of worry in the pit of his stomach. “Does...does he mistreat you?”

Loki was able to keep his face straight for no more than five seconds before a delighted laugh bubbled up out of his throat. “Of course not.”

Gritting his teeth, Thor shoved himself forwards again, weight right back at Loki’s throat, and he was worryingly satisfied by the dry little gargle that preceded Loki’s next breath.

“I don’t have a hero complex,” Thor said, just to be clear. “And I’m getting tired of your games.”

He pressed just a little harder, just enough that Loki’s eyes began to tear up again, and then he dropped his arm, letting Loki slump back against the wall.

“I’m going now,” Thor said, voice low, backing away. “If you have any sense you won’t follow me into that lift.”

“Why?” Loki murmured. The question took Thor by surprise, stopping him in his tracks again. “What will you do to me?”

He sounded excited, tone smooth and sultry. He let his gaze drop to Thor’s crotch.

“It was good, wasn't it?” he bit his lip, sounding far more confident than he had any right to, and canted his hips away from the wall towards Thor. “You enjoyed yourself.”

It was the truth, undeniably, but still. “If you think that's happening ever again you're more insane than I thought.”

Affecting an exaggerated pout, Loki tilted his head. “Shame.”

Thor almost expected an advance, a heavy-handed attempt to seduce like the night in the club, but Loki didn’t move.

A heavy, unpleasant feeling bloomed in Thor’s gut, one that he recognised as disappointment.

He blew out a breath, eyeing Loki carefully. “His injury. It’s real?”

Loki shrugged again, all casual. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Unlikely,” Thor countered, shouldering his duffel once again.

“Oh, come on, I didn’t really lie to you, did I?” Loki raised a fine brow, letting the question hang just long enough for it to sink-in with Thor. “It’s not like you asked my reason for being in Helsinki, or even my last name. I invented an entire backstory and I didn’t even have to use it.”

Thor huffed, incredulous, but it wasn’t exactly _untrue_. Thor had been all-too-willing to take Loki to bed having asked almost nothing about him. “So you’re suggesting it’s my fault?”

Loki hummed. “I’m willing to accept fifty percent of the blame.”

It shouldn’t have been funny - it _wasn’t_ funny - but somehow Thor found himself huffing around a laugh. “Fuck you.”

“Well, precisely.” Loki’s eyes were gleaming with the same flirtatious confidence from the night in the club.

“Also unlikely,” Thor countered again, with less conviction than he’d like.

And he was going to walk away, he really was, but then Loki pushed himself away from the wall and into Thor’s space, smoothly cupping Thor’s crotch without coyness or hesitation.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

Thor had him back against the wall before he’d even sucked in a new breath.

“Don’t touch me,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, voice low with determination more than anger.

The fact that he hadn’t just left Loki standing alone down here spoke volumes about the hold he somehow had over him, and that made Thor vulnerable.

“Why not?” Loki whispered. “You keep putting your hands on me.”

The earnestness in his voice was betrayed by the subtle twitch of his mouth, and just the threat of that smug fucking look made Thor want to punch the wall.

His chest, pressed close to Loki, was rising and falling heavily again now and it wasn’t from his workout. He jumped when Loki pressed a hand to his lower ribs, the material of his t-shirt damp and cold with sweat.

Thor glanced down between their bodies but he could only watch as Loki’s hand trailed lower; slow, seeking fingers making Thor’s stomach jump and twitch as he warred between shrinking away from the cold and pressing into Loki’s touch.

Then, unexpected and gentle, Loki used his other hand to lift Thor’s chin.

He expected to find Loki’s eyes bright with mischief, his expression smug, but instead he found Loki’s gaze intense, his lips parted around shaking breaths that ghosted warm against Thor’s lips as he said, “Don’t say no.”

“Loki…” Thor murmured, shaking his head just a little.

_I can’t_ , he wanted to say. _We can’t_.

But then Loki leaned in and pressed their mouths together, and any thought of stopping him vanished from Thor’s mind.

His lips were dry but soft, catching on Thor’s as he tilted his head, parting them to lave a slow lick across Thor’s plump bottom lip, and without needing to be asked Thor opened up for him.

The faint, bitter hint of unsweetened coffee tripped off Loki’s tongue and Thor chased it, slid a hand behind his neck and took a fistful of the hair at his name to hold him in place.

It was then, while Thor was distracted by the kiss, that Loki’s palm found the shape of his cock again through his workout pants.

Drawing back just an inch, Thor groaned Loki’s name.

It wasn’t a warning as he’d meant it, but rather a breathy and reverent plea, and Loki took it as permission to start up a slow stroke, and it was _good_ , just the right amount of pressure to have blood pooling to Thor’s groin.

Thor sagged into him, giving up all pretence of resistance.

“It’s okay,” Loki murmured, mouth close to Thor’s jaw, his breath warm against Thor’s skin. “You don’t have to punish yourself for having a little fun.”

He licked and sucked at Thor’s throat while he stroked him to hardness, tongue snaking out to rasp along the day’s-worth of stubble at Thor’s jaw, and when they kissed again Thor could taste the salt of his own workout on Loki’s lips.

Without preamble Loki tugged Thor’s waistband away from his body, enough to slide his hand inside, gripping him nice and tight before starting to stroke again. Thor’s knees nearly buckled.

If either of them had any sense they’d have tucked themselves away behind the punching bag or around the corner, but instead they were out in the open, visible from the doorway - anyone could walk in and see them.

It crossed Thor’s mind that perhaps Loki wanted them to be caught, that it was all still part of some fucked up plan to ensure a win for his brother, but he had neither the strength nor the willpower to put a stop to it.

He watched through hooded eyes as Loki tipped his chin down and spat into his hand, and when he took Thor into his warm, slippery grip again it was all Thor could do not to let out a desperate moan.

He bit out a tight, low “Fuck,” breath coming ragged, hips moving of their own volition in time with Loki’s clever strokes.

It occurred to him, quite belatedly perhaps, that he wasn’t touching Loki at all, wasn’t kissing him or even gripping his hair anymore, palms pressed flat to the wall either side of Loki’s head as he fucked into his fist.

He dropped one hand to take a fistful of Loki’s ass, briefly enjoying the pleased little laugh Loki emitted, before sliding his hand around Loki’s hip, between their bodies.

“Yeah, okay,” Loki grinned, biting at Thor’s jaw and neck and earlobe - anywhere he could latch his teeth - while Thor hastily unfastened the button and zipper of his black jeans.

Thor was pleased to find him already fully hard, as if he’d been getting off on getting Thor off, and as soon as Thor had a hand on him he let out a low moan, head dropping back against the wall.

Thor leaned in, taking Loki’s mouth in a desperate kiss and keeping it up until his chest was burning. It was Loki who tore himself away first, rolling his head to the left.

A sudden, breathy laugh escaped him.

“Look at us,” he said, threading his fingers into the damp hair at Thor’s nape.

Following his eyes Thor caught sight of their reflection in the floor-length mirror that took up the entire left wall.

Even in the harsh gym lighting it took him a moment to work out where he ended and Loki began; a tangle of legs, bodies pressed so tightly together, Loki at once wrapped around him and penned in by his bulk.

As Thor watched, Loki turned to nuzzle along his jaw, open mouthed kisses and flicks of tongue.

“Don’t we look good together?” a soft, secretive murmur into the sensitive spot beneath Thor’s ear.

Thor was mesmerised - _hypnotised_ \- by the sight of them, by the sight of Loki rolling his hips to match the rhythm of Thor’s hand, all the while kissing and nipping, breathing hotly against his throat.

It was calculated, probably meant to prove how desperate Thor was for him, but equally Thor took it as proof that Loki was desperate for him too, clinging to him, needy and vulnerable.

Fighting off a smile he turned his face back to Loki, catching his open mouth in a forceful kiss that knocked Loki’s head back against the wall with a thud.

Loki whined like it had hurt but he didn’t mind, thrusting sarply into Thor’s fist when Thor sucked hard on his bottom lip.

“How about I mark you this time?” Thor said, tightening his fist just a little, tighter than he’d ever touch himself, pleased when Loki’s only response was a tight little hiccup.

When he ducked down to mouth at Loki’s throat Loki offered it up, tipping his head back further, breath climbing to short, sharp gasps in anticipation.

Thor’s teeth scraped beneath his jaw, and Loki let out a strangled whine, his fist tightening almost painfully on Thor’s cock before slackening completely, like he’d lost all sense of his own task, thrusting into Thor’s touch on pure instinct.

Thor latched onto the soft skin of his throat, sucking hard enough to bruise, revelling in the soft, desperate whimpers Loki breathed right into his ear.

He felt Loki’s body tightening up, his whimpers stuttering to a stop like they’d caught in his throat, and he bit down.

Loki went still, stiff, and Thor leaned back just in time to see his eyes roll back beneath his lids. His come spilled warm and copious over Thor’s fist, pulse after pulse as Thor worked him through it, stroking him even through the aftershocks until he was whining and shrinking away from the touch.

He blinked his eyes open, pupils blown, and let out a soft, undeniably satisfied sigh.

“Don’t look so smug,” he drawled, accent heavy on his lazy tongue.

Thor hummed. “I wouldn’t want to step on your toes.”

Loki let out a short laugh, his head dropping back against the wall again like he was spent.

Thor gave him a moment, as long as he could bear, before tilting his pelvis up with an impatient thrust. It was enough for Loki to take pity on him, spitting once more into his hand.

For all his tiredness he stroked Thor with renewed vigor, attentive to the things that made Thor gasp and grunt.

Tipping his chin up again he kept up his messy kisses - all seeking, forceful tongue and desperate breaths fanning out against Thor’s cheek - but he worked Thor’s cock with precision, long tight strokes that twisted _just so_ at the tip, teasing Thor’s glans and sensitive crown.

“Fuck,” Thor breathed, feeling as if the word had been punched from his gut.

He was teetering in the edge, only vaguely aware of how hard he was pressing himself to Loki, how harsh each snap of his hips was as he chased the tight heat of Loki’s fist.

Turning his head again he was met by his own wild eyes in the mirror, his own gritted teeth, sweat dripping down his cheek. He looked like an animal.

With one last kiss to his neck Loki turned to meet his eyes in their reflection.

“Come on, Champ,” he murmured, and Thor couldn’t tell if it was a jibe or not.

It hardly mattered.  
  
He stiffened, buttocks clenching tightly to drive one last thrust into Loki’s fist, and a sweep of hot, buzzing pleasure crashed over him as he came.

He heard his own cry echo out, sounding hollow in the large room. His knees threatened to give out, his breathing heavy and laboured as he leaned his weight on Loki to keep himself upright, sucking in deep and desperate breaths.

They stayed there like that, huddled against the wall, for much longer than was necessary, until the sound of Thor’s own heartbeat in his ears gave way to silence.

Eventually, without lifting his head, he asked, “Is this a thing you do with all of his opponents or am I just special?”

Loki’s shoulders shook as he laughed. “Usually I just try to get them drunk the night before the fight.”

Thor didn’t find it funny.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Note:  
> For those of you reading on mobile, the translations are below:  
>  _Kehosi_ is the equivalent of 'your body'  
> With _Aivan vitun mahtavaa_ Loki basically said 'fucking incredible' at the end there
> 
> Thank you to my own personal Finnish translator, the wonderful [pohjanneito](http://pohjanneito.tumblr.com/), who was onhand to help me whenever I needed her. <3
> 
> Thanks also to Mona, Allie, Noora and Selene for read-throughs, beta reads and cheerleading <3


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